Candleglow

By Ashley Roland

I am her destruction. I am her only hope.
My actions destroyed my realm, and allowed
darkness within her blessed borders. I was betrayed by the one who swore to love me. The peace we brokered for our warring nations was shattered when Calix burned my city to the ground and ruthlessly murdered my people.
To save Aleeathar, I have to leave the safety of the human realm. I have to remember who I used to be. My return to Aleeathar awakens the magic of the land, but it wants revenge. It will allow me to save my realm...but it will require my life.
I will gladly give it, if it means Aleeathar survives.
To save Aleeathar, I have to kill the one I once loved, the one who still makes my body burn with desire. I must face the darkness within me, embrace it, and use it. Dark Calix’s temptations are powerful, and I know he desires my body in his arms, his bed, and my heart and soul under his control once more.
With my few remaining allies, I will destroy the one who destroyed me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Roland
• Release date: Aug 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370992188

Book preview

Candleglow

A.D. RolanD

Candleglow

Copyright ©2016 A.D. Roland

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Editor: Chelly Peeler

Cover Art: Ash Arceneaux

Other books by A.D. Roland

Fantasy

Dark Consort

The Carrion King’s Consort (coming soon!)

Horror

Wraithborne

Congenital Defects

The Swamp Song Series

Swamp Baby

Spirit-Mother: Devotion

Spirit-Mother: Redemption

#Hater (coming soon!)

Hellborn (coming soon!)

Romance

Bearskin

A Year of You

Muse (coming soon!)

THANKS a million times over to my beta readers! Jen C. and Chelly, you ladies ROCK. Love you both!

Fugue State

It's always the same thing in the beginning of these fugues. I slip into the seizure like breathing, like inhaling. In the space of a blink I'm in the room, that cavernous chamber made of black stone. The consistency of polished lava rock, it glimmers darkly in the light from the single candle on the wooden table in the center of the room. In some visits, I catch a glimpse of a tall, black throne far off at the end of the chamber.

The candle's flame flickers wildly in the drafty space. Nestled in a jar made of dark ruby-red glass, it casts an entrancing glow that draws me forward. The dancing light makes me smile, makes me feel warm and loved. It invokes memories of the king's touch, and my body responds to those recollections. Leather against my skin, silk against my flesh, his lips kissing the bruises he inflicted and stealing away the ache.

But he's never touched me, not in this room, not like that. The memories are from some other life—one I’m not sure I lived. My body and my soul know him, but my mind does not. Like sticking my tongue in the gaps from missing teeth, I can't help but explore that sensation. His name is on the tip of my tongue, as are the memories of our time together. But it's just out of reach, and the candle beckons me closer.

My modern clothing is gone, my jeans and t-shirt replaced by a long, gauzy gown that gathers beneath my breasts in a high waistline and trails the tops of my bare feet. Underneath, I'm naked. The darker circles of my nipples visible through the thin fabric. If I move just right, the light cuts through the fabric and shows the silhouette of my legs.

The blood-red candlelight flickers and dances. I can't take my eyes off it. I stare until red spots dance behind my eyelids when I blink. I believe the candle is supposed to mesmerize me, to keep me entranced so I don't notice how the king enters the room, the seemingly doorless chamber.

With a sensation like the air being sucked out of the room, he is suddenly behind me. He's so close I can feel his body heat through my thin gown. I smell him, a captivating, subtle scent of night and amber, musk and vanilla.

I can't turn around. I know if I do, the spell will be broken. He'll vanish, and I'll be stuck in this dark, sealed chamber until whatever magic he used to summon me wears off. Because I'm in the broken spaces between minutes, time is nothing here. I can be here for months, weeks, hours, and awaken in my present life from whatever seizure possessed me, only moments afterward. More than being alone in the dark space, I'm terrified of being without him. Perhaps it's a soul memory, but the loss of him is like the loss of self. I don't know who he is, but he's part of me.

This is where the fugue state changes; sometimes he stays far away, at the edge of the circle of crimson light. Other times, he's so close I can smell the leather of his gloves, his clothing. Sometimes he doesn't say a word. He just touches me with gentle hands. Shoulders, arms, waist, hips...

Other times he talks. The conversations are always face-to-back. We speak of him, of me, of our magical realm and reign. We speak of our time together, the last time we were physically together. I can't remember it, but the story feels right, deep inside. As if I was once his and I'd gone away; sometimes he begs me to come back until I hear tears in his voice and he can barely speak around the knot in his throat.

And sometimes...sometimes he pushes me forward to the table and leans me over it. He lifts my gown over my hips and strokes and smacks my sensitive skin until I cry out. He uses his fingers and his mouth on me and takes me to the very edge of control. When I'm lying across the table, gasping and crying, begging him to take me completely, he just whispers, Wait. I hear it in his voice that he wants me as much as I need him.

He takes me over the edge, and I plunge into an indescribable carnal rapture that leaves my knees rubbery and my breath caught in my throat. The fire he's stoked is nowhere near quelled. I grind against him as he strokes himself to release and comes on my back, growling my name.

Sometimes he remains there, helping me stand upright and holding me close. Sometimes, he bids me close my eyes and turns me around, so I can bury my face against his shoulder and breathe in his familiar scent.

I don't always come right back to myself. I can be stuck there until the magic wears off. I've watched double suns cross the sky and lavender moons gaze down at me from the skylights high in the stone ceiling. Usually, though, my king is merciful and releases me into my own world again.

Every time, I want him to keep me, to save me from this awful place of paychecks, rent and menial jobs for ungrateful employers. He offers me a crown, a kingdom, his own happiness and bliss. I want him to keep me close, to inebriate me with his cruelties and delights. He waits for me to say the words.

But I never can find my right words. I can always feel his disappoint and hear the sorrow in his voice when I fail. I come back to myself a little more broken.

So I search for the right words, words that will make a slave of a king, and queen of a dreamer.

Chapter 1

Ear-piercing shrieks rang out across the long, narrow playground and echoed over the dry, grassy fields surrounding the small daycare center. Most of the preschoolers were clustered around something on the ground, near the base of the huge old oak tree at the far end of the enclosure. I paused, broom in hand, and wondered what they found so fascinating. None of the daycare workers sprawled across the stubby, bright yellow kiddie chairs showed much interest.

I thought I heard a childish cry of Spider! Anything with more than four legs was a spider to the kids, though. Maybe one of the adults would run the kids off and show some mercy to whatever poor insect or arachnid the brats had in their clutches.

Nope.

I sighed and kept sweeping the screened-in infant play area. I did most of the cleaning at the daycare center, since my seizures kept me from being able to be alone with the kids. I helped out during the day, floating from class to class, and did whatever random tasks the director needed handled. I hated my job, but I needed the paycheck, and in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere, Florida, I had to take what I could get. No other business owners wanted to take a chance with me and my unpredictable seizures and the bizarre memory loss that always accompanied them. For hours, sometimes days, and sometimes permanently, I lost all memory of who I was, including everything about my life. I kept notebooks full of notes to myself so I could figure things out.

And so I could remember the important things, and forget the frighteningly insistent memories that would surface. If I left them alone, they festered like wounds. The more of my current life I remembered, the more of that weird, second, surreal life I forgot. It wasn't real, anyway. Magical kings, tangled labyrinthian forests, and double-sunned days. The doctors I used to see told me the seizures weren't physical, they were mental, products of some sort of mental fracture, and the visions and 'memories' were symptoms of an impending psychotic break.

I sighed, as I always did when I thought about their whack-job diagnosis. Psychotic break. Yay. Something to look forward to.

The kids' shrieks grew a little more excited. Finished with the porch, I headed to the patio to sweep away the clumps of black dirt the kids tracked between the grassy area and the back door.

A sudden, heart-stopping shriek of pain shattered the relative peace of the playground. The four teachers jumped to their feet and ran for the kids, me on their heels. We plowed through the clusters of kids, picking them up, pushing them aside, whatever it took to move them so we could get through. As one, the four women froze and drew back. Vienna started flapping her hands wildly in front of her face and stamping her feet in some crazy heebie-jeebie jig.

Get it, get it get it get it, Casey chanted, pointing at the bizarre insect clinging to shrieking Vita's little face. Oh God, get it off her!

I searched around for a stick, anything to try and flick the hand-sized thing off the kid's face. Roughly the shape of a dragonfly sans wings, it had a segmented tail with a stinger on it, vaguely scorpion-like. Long legs clung to Vita's face, and oversized mandibles clicked terrifyingly close to her nose. Stunted wings fanned faster than I could see, buzzing angrily.

I dashed the frighteningly alien insect off and stomped it into a crunchy mush on the ground. The kids screamed and the other adults weren’t much more help.

All the excitement radiated like a physical force. I sensed the dying flickers of something from the huge insect-creature. I...mourned it deep within my soul. The strange sensation of loss gave me pause. This was a life I should be protecting, not destroying.

My vision blurred and bright streaks of light flickered through the green oak leaves. Faces moved in the rough, nubby tree bark. Sound warped and fluctuated.

No, not now, not in front of the other teachers and all the kids. But the weird, tendril-like sensation spread through my mind, taking over, my only warning of an impending seizure. I scrubbed the bug sludge off on my shoe and staggered away, through the crowd of curious, frightened kids. Vienna danced and did her wild jig, flapping at her hair in an attempt to dislodge whatever bug she thought had invaded her extravagant curly weave. I saw her in double vision, her body swathed by brilliant red and orange and yellow auras.

I made it inside and tripped over a doormat. I caught myself on my hands and knees, but the impact knocked the world sideways. I couldn't see straight. Angles and corners were wrong, and straight lines pointed the wrong directions. Colors changed hues subtly. Bathroom. Had to get to the bathroom. Someplace quiet and dark and still.

I made it, somehow. Don't forget. I clawed the marker out of my pocket. My constant companion, that fuchsia permanent marker.

Zadra, I scrawled on my arm. Remember, you forget. Remember TO forget. I underlined 'to' until I couldn't hold on to the marker anymore, until it fell from my hands, and until I fell into the void in time and space that opened around me.

Like inhaling, I slipped into the fugue state.

*****

Time to come home, Zaiya.

His voice wraps around me, deep and slightly gruff, like someone who has been singing for hours on end. Somehow, I know he has been singing, and he has the sort of voice that would make a woman melt. His hands close around my shoulders.

You have to figure out the right words soon, Zaiya. Divided we fall. And we're falling.

What words? Tell me and I'll say them. Clenching my eyes closed, I turn swiftly and slide my arms beneath his leather jacket and around his warm, solid chest. He wears a soft t-shirt, warm from being against his skin. I bury my face in his shoulder. He's home to me, and I can't bear to be separated from him.

He makes a sound, a hopeless little half-sob. It doesn't work that way. I can't do any more than I do now.

How am I supposed to figure this out on my own?

You've done it before.

I want to look up at him, see who this man is that I love so fiercely. His last statement puzzles me. Not being able to read his face or see his eyes leaves me feeling handicapped somehow. His hands rub my back gently. His touch excites me on a primal level. I turn my face and kiss his neck. He wraps one hand in my hair. Think, Zay, he urges me.

Remember the last time we were together.

I can't. I forget everything as soon as you send me back.

He kisses the top of my head, over and over again, and holds me tighter. It's the magic. You've been out of the Realm for so long, your mortal body can't handle it.

I catch a glimpse of his palm. A bright white scar shaped like a crescent curves from pinkie to pointer.

You have to try. You have to remember. You have to find your guardian. He or she will be our last resort. They'll help you find me.

Who is he?

He shrugs. I don't know. Someone close to you, someone you've known for as long as you can remember.

I shake my head against his shoulder. My hair rubs against his leather jacket and creates a gentle layer of static electricity. I don't remember anyone. Every time I see you, I forget my entire life. I write myself notes every day, just to remember who I am.

I'm so sorry, my love. There has to be someone in your life, some constant. Look for him now, before you remember to forget again. There are others who will try to keep you from your quest.

My quest?

You have to save me, princess.

The back of my head tingles, the signal that his magic is wearing thin. I cling to him tighter. Don't let me go.

Find me, he says into my hair. I look up, unable to stop myself. I catch a glimpse of mismatched eyes before I exhale and blow away the last of the magic.

*****

Violent pounding on the door drew me back to full consciousness. My head buzzed and my muscles twitched and shuddered. Air stuck in my throat. I had to force my lungs to work.

The room I awoke in meant nothing to me. I lay between a cold porcelain toilet and a wall, curled into a C. One hand lay under my hip, the other arm bent behind my back. My legs were tangled together, painfully.

A woman outside the door yelled, her words muffled. She kept on her incessant pounding. I pushed myself into an upright position and groaned aloud as the blood rushed back into my hands and my head. My forehead felt tender and puffy. I must have hit it when I fell. I managed to get up on the toilet. My knees felt too rubbery and my legs shook too badly to try and stand. The woman outside wanted to know if I was okay. Yeah, I croaked. I wasn't sure if she heard me, and I wasn't sure I cared.